


Home Like a Distant Star

by Cryptographic_Delurk



Category: Mahou Shoujo Madoka Magika | Puella Magi Madoka Magica
Genre: F/F, Gen, Homelessness, Japanese food, KyouSaya vibes, Kyouko in this instance, Other, Religion, Trans Female Character, and baked goods, domestic angst, in general it's a very headcanon heavy fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-07
Updated: 2018-03-07
Packaged: 2019-03-28 09:21:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,129
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13901013
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cryptographic_Delurk/pseuds/Cryptographic_Delurk
Summary: Lounging around Mami’s apartment past three in the afternoon isn’t without consequence. Mami has ideas about how Kyouko should be living her life. Kyouko has different ones.And yet big decisions somehow become infinitesimal, in the hands of a magical girl.





	Home Like a Distant Star

**Author's Note:**

> This story is based in the canon of the main series. It could arguably be a prelude to _Rebellion_ , but most decidedly does not fit into _Different Story_ canon. I’m unfamiliar with the other spinoffs, prequels, and other additions to the extended canon.
> 
> I suggest checking the additional tags, if you haven't already. Otherwise, please Read & Relax.

 

Because it was easy, Kyouko ended up falling asleep on Mami’s sofa.

There were other places Kyouko could sleep, of course. She might not have Akemi Homura’s adeptness at slipping past people, but she didn’t need it to climb through the windows into the vacant rooms at love hotels, or break into the school gym and huddle up on the exercise mats, or sneak into the home of a family gone on vacation.

If she ever seriously landed herself in trouble, she had the witch’s power of illusion to help her sneak away and disappear out of sight.

She had come to Mami’s place after they had fought the Wraiths. (Mami had carried her wounded body there, in truth.) And Kyouko healed fast, but still not always fast enough. (And Mami had laid her on the sofa, tucked a blanket around her, and caressed her cheek.) And so she slept at Mami’s because it was easy.

There was a loaf of sweet almond bread wrapped in the bread box. And there were milk and sticks of butter in the fridge. And Mami’s place had central heating, and a cream-coloured ceiling, and a charm that exceeded even that of stealing snacks from the minibars in the love hotels – of unwrapping the tubes of strawberry-flavoured lube and squirting it into your mouth and laughing at the crude parody of adulthood.

Mami was gone when Kyouko woke up. She pulled the woollen blanket away from her neck, where it scratched her badly. It was coloured burgundy and moss, and didn’t match anything else in the room.

Kyouko washed her hair and face in the kitchen sink, and helped herself to apples and almond bread and leftover Chinese take-out. She moved a pile of magazines – cleared away a space – and lay down on the carpet.

Mami didn’t get home until 3pm. Kyouko had mostly had her fill of food, and mostly had her fill of daytime television. She had watched the Filipino boxers dodge and dance, and had cheered for whoever the winner seemed to be at any moment. Now all that was on were talk shows, ones that paraded society’s outcasts across the stage like a circus freak show. Kyouko feigned interest in it, to avoid the worst of Mami’s scrutiny.

“Oh, you’re still here,” Mami said, with the slight pitch of disappointment. No pretence of ‘I’m home’ and ‘Welcome back’, although Kyouko supposed Mami was out of practice. It wasn’t as if she usually had anyone to welcome her home, to welcome herself home to.

Mami set down her backpack and a plastic grocery bag, out of which poked the head of a grungy seal plushie. It didn’t match anything else in the room.

She was wearing a dark grey coat over her uniform, fashionably cut, and it contrasted lovely against her pale peach skin. She lifted her feet up, and reached behind her to dislodge the heels of her feet from the perfect black Mary Janes.

“Turn that down. It’s so loud,” Mami said, as she stepped up into the apartment. She walked past into the kitchen, where Kyouko could hear her run the water and plug the sink.

Kyouko found the remote and adjusted the volume. It was easier to give in, so long as Mami wasn’t asking for too much.

She pretended to watch the television for a couple minutes longer, until Mami told her to get up and help cut the scallions and chicken. Kyouko was almost pleased for the excuse to shut the TV off, but she groaned and made a point of stomping as she pushed herself up from the carpet and worked her way into the kitchen.

Mami was bathing the seal plushie in the sink. She lathered soap into its fur with her hands, and used a cup to pour warm water over its head. She had this gentleness when she played caretaker. And when she was done playing, she wrung the plushie into a thin line, strangling the water out of it, and clipped it to the line on the balcony to dry.

They wouldn’t go out hunting Wraiths tonight. (Or maybe they would. Tomorrow was Sunday, so Mami didn’t have to be concerned about school in the morning.)

The ingredients were all cut and ready, and the rice had been placed inside the cooker. But it wasn’t time for dinner yet and, because it was easy, Kyouko sat down with Mami. She slouched over and rested her chin on the triangle table, and watched as Mami pulled handouts from her backpack.

“What did you do today?” Mami asked.

“Nothing really.”

Mami hummed and let her lips purse dissatisfied. “Were you here the whole time?”

“Yeah.”

Mami drew a triangle on clean graph paper. She flipped to the back of her math textbook, and ran her finger down a chart. “Cosine, forty eight degrees… I can’t-” she mumbled to herself.

Kyouko rocked her cheek against the cool glass of the table.

After another fifteen minutes of struggling with trigonometry, Mami spoke. “Sit up. I have something for you.”

Kyouko sighed and sat up in her seat. Mami drew a document out of her backpack and placed it lightly on the table in front of Kyouko with both hands.

Kyouko scanned the paper. Once. Twice.

“No.”

Mami sighed. Long suffering. She shook her head. Condescending.

“You know it’s the law that you should be attending school through eighth grade.”

Kyouko batted the registration form away. “I’m not doing it.”

“It would be good for you, to get away from this kind of isolation,” Mami said. “Kids should go to school and learn.”

“I said I’m not doing it,” Kyouko snipped.

“You can’t just think about yourself all the time.” Mami sighed, frustrated. “Think about the trouble you’re causing other people for once.”

“Like the trouble that’s caused to the public when we let some of the Wraiths go?” Kyouko asked.

Mami frowned suspiciously. “Well, yes-”

“Like the trouble you cause me and Homura when you over-exhaust yourself doing stupid things like trying to fight them all,” Kyouko cut her off.

Mami’s face scrunched up, like she had tasted something bitter.

She paused a moment before continuing. She nodded at the schoolwork on the table. “Is it really that bad?” Mami brushed her bangs behind her ear, and her pigtails bobbed.

Kyouko softened. She puffed her cheeks.

“They’ll make me wear a boy’s uniform.”

“Is it really that bad?” Mami repeated. “Do you dislike the boy’s uniform that much?”

_Well, no, she didn’t really. Pants were comfortable enough. More comfortable than skirts. But it wasn’t as if that’d be the end of it._

“Yes. I hate it,” Kyouko said petulantly.

“You’re just being difficult,” Mami said. “ _I_ know, everyone _important_ knows, that you’re a girl – a magical girl. Isn’t that enough?”

“I pretended I wasn’t a magical girl once – for my family – and you know exactly how well that turned out!” Kyouko was standing. Kyouko was yelling. “I’m not doing it again! Not for you! Not for anyon- Aaaaah!”

Akemi Homura was sitting on the other side of the table, slurping up a serving of oyakodon with a spoon. Where she hadn’t been a second before.

Mami turned and blinked at her. “Oh, you’re here.”

“I was hungry,” Homura explained.

Mami nodded in bland acceptance of this, because of course she did.

“When did you make dinner?!” Kyouko demanded. “Did you actually make all the portions?! Or did you just make enough for yourself?”

Homura looked up. She blew on a spoonful of rice before swallowing.

“Just enough for me.”

Mami sighed. “It’s fine.” She waved her hand dismissively. “Just put the dirty dishes in the sink once you’re done with them.”

“It’s not fine!” Kyouko insisted.

Mami sighed again. She reached to gather the school registration form that Kyouko had pushed away. “We’ll discuss this more later,” she said pointedly.

“No,” Kyouko huffed, like an angry bull. “No, we won’t!”

For a second, Mami looked pointedly uncomfortable. And sad. And Kyouko was almost positive it was because a third party, Homura, was there to observe their disagreement.

“There’s not much time left before the next school year starts… I’m only trying to think of what’s best for you. It’s only because I care.”

Kyouko bit her lip, and yet it couldn’t stop her.

“Get real! You don’t care! You don’t even like me – me or Homura! You can’t stand anyone who’s seen through your perfect sempai act!”

Homura slurped on the oyakodon, in blatant lack of giving-a-shit-about-any-of-this.

And, God, Kyouko hated Homura so much in that moment. Homura, who didn’t need Mami to care about her. Homura, who had a family and a warm bed to go home to always. Homura, who had everything that Kyouko and Mami would kill and die for, and who didn’t seem to care about it in the least.

Homura didn’t care about anyone or anything, except for her “Kaname Madoka”. She hadn’t been the slightest bit fazed at Sayaka’s death. She had brushed by Kyouko’s shoulder and said in the small voice of madness:

_She’s with Madoka now._

“You don’t care about me!” Kyouko yelled at Mami. “All you care about is not being alone! You’ll fucking fill the void with anyone!” She tried not to gesture directly to Homura. “Or anything!” she added.

She stormed into the centre of the living room.

“Look at all this crap!” Kyouko gestured to the bookcase in the living room. Where stuffed animals, and fluffy pillows, and figurines, and half-burned candles overflowed off the shelves. She gestures to the beanbag chair in the corner, covered in decorative boxes, and extra clothes, and old copies of shoujo mags. She gestured out to the seal plush drying on the balcony. There were other things – antique chairs with scratched up legs. Botched paintings by lazy art students hanging on the walls. “How much of it did you rescue from the garbage heap?!” Kyouko demanded. “I remember when this room was empty white!

_What am I? Just another piece of trash you picked up to coo over? Until you realise I’m not enough? Will never be enough?_

She felt like throwing something. It took effort to hold her arms back from the ammunition on the shelves.

But Mami’s lip had started to wobble. Her eyes had peeled away to reveal something beneath the calm and cold. And that just made it worse.

“I- I have to go! I’m leaving!” Kyouko announced.

Mami sat up straight in her seat. Her hand almost seemed to reach out. She pulled it into a fist on the table.

“B-But the oyakodon?!” Mami pleaded. “You haven’t eaten.”

“I’m not hungry!” Kyouko lied. She was hungry for something to fill her life too. But that Mami would rather have her here, screaming and yelling, than be alone – it was too hard to watch.

Mami’s face turned into an ugly scowl. “Fine then!” she agreed. “Good riddance! Go back to Kasamino, if you’re so eager to be away from me!”

Mami knew full well Kyouko couldn’t go back to Kasamino. Not if she didn’t want people to recognise her as the venerable eldest son of the Sakura family. Not if she didn’t want to risk discovering that people might not recognise her at all.

Her shoes were stacked over by the door, but Kyouko couldn’t leave fast enough. There was an overlarge goose-down coat stacked on a chair. An old shougi set was laid out on top of it, and dislodging the coat toppled its pieces to the floor.

She wrapped herself in the jacket, pulling it over her sweatshirt and shorts, and opened the sliding door out to the balcony. Her toes tingled against the cold winter, and she pressed herself up onto the railing, and knocked the seal plushie over the edge as she jumped down.

==

 _What a stupid wish,_ Kyouko thought for what seemed like the thousandth time.

Her father was Anglican, or had been, before the Church excommunicated him for his radical beliefs. The temple that Kyouko walked into, on the far side of Mitakihara, was Lutheran, but Kyouko figured it didn’t make a big difference.

 _I just want people to listen to him_ , she had told The Incubator.  _I only want for them to listen. And believe._

Well, Kyouko had listened. And she had believed. And now she could curse God over and over and over, all she wanted, but she couldn’t stop believing.

_What a stupid wish._

Her toes padded the floor, and the plastic bag swung at her side. She’d stolen yakitori, a can of pop, and candles. It would have been more expedient to sneak one away from inside the church itself. But it was wrong to steal in a church.

It was wrong to steal at all, of course. But God was a piece of shit if he was gonna hold it against her.

She had stolen Sayaka’s portrait from the Miki family shrine too, although that had been a while back. Swinging from inside the bag, Sayaka smiled out from the very same golden frame her parents had left her in. They had gone on vacation five months after Sayaka’s disappearance, to try to escape the heaviness of grief and the suffocation of false hope. And Kyouko buried her way into their house and stole the portrait from the butsudan.

 _They didn’t understand her, anyway,_ Kyouko had thought, jealously. It had been her and Mami and Homura at the train station, when Sayaka had died. Sayaka’s Soul Gem had faded and disintegrated right in front of them.

Kyouko had asked for penance though. She’d prayed through the rosary six times for the stealing alone. And she didn’t even count the rest. She had prayed over and over and over, and would keep on for as long as she was able, that Sayaka could be forgiven her witchcraft and be allowed into heaven.

The church was all but empty at this time on Saturday Night. It would be busy tomorrow morning, but Kyouko didn’t feel she belonged in a church service of ordinary people. On the left side of the temple was a family in black crowded around the light, and Kyouko left them as she veered through the pews to the right.

She set out Sayaka’s portrait, and took some candles from her bag. She lit them against the others, and set them into dulled brass holders.

She sat for a while, running her fingers blindly along the string of beads she pulled from under her shirt, around her neck. Until she had run through it thrice and felt tired.

“Yeah, you better forgive her, God. Otherwise, you’ll be hearing from me,” she promised.

She opened one eye, and met Sayaka’s gaze in the portrait.

Miki Sayaka had been a person of big emotions: Great joys. Great griefs.

“You sure caused a lot of trouble.”

Sayaka seemed to laugh in the portrait. Careless and haughty. Of course she did.

Mami had cried. She had curled in on herself, right there on the train platform. And Kyouko was surprised at how small and fragile she had looked. She had hiccupped tears and called Sayaka’s name to the empty space where her Soul Gem had been. And then she had quieted, except for the ugly, curdling sobs.

Kyouko had crouched down on one knee, and grasped Mami’s shoulders. She had already known, already gone through falling out after falling out with Mami. She knew Mami wasn’t really as strong and put together as she tried to appear. She had gripped Mami’s shoulders and not known what to say.

_Really it was Kyouko that wanted to cry. Where had the reliable Mami-sempai gone – that who had once been the pillar of their strength? Who was this person that Kyouko had to be strong for? This person she had to hold up and hold back tears for?_

And then Homura had brushed by Kyouko’s shoulder:

_She’s with Madoka now._

Fuck Homura, though.

“You know, you’re really kind of to blame for this,” Kyouko accused softly.

Sayaka’s portrait smiled guilelessly at her.

“Yeah,” Kyouko continued. “You know, me and Mami lost our families. My whole family died because of my wish. Even if the guy you liked went off with another girl… Even if you couldn’t live, body and soul, like a normal human… Even if you felt betrayed…”

Kyouko crossed her arms, and looked critically at Sayaka’s disaffection. She tapped a cold foot against the cold floor.

“You know, I feel betrayed too,” Kyouko said. “And I’m still here. Why am I still here?”

_Why am I still here when you’re not?_

Sayaka continued to smile.

“Agh! That’s enough from you,” Kyouko stood. She gently turned Sayaka and the frame into newspaper, and back into her plastic bag. She took one last peak at the portrait. “Yeah, yeah, I know,” Kyouko admitted. “It’s not good to blame your problems on other people.”

It was no good, though. She was still angry. At Sayaka, at Homura, at Mami, at herself.

She retrieved the can of pop from her bag, and enjoyed the snap and tingling fizz as she pressed it open. She left the final budding snips of her candles in front of the icon, and gathered her bag before exiting through the pews.

She really needed to blow off some steam. And her feet were still cold, so she willed them inside a visage of deep red fabric.

==

She couldn’t wait until summer. During the summer, she could sleep out in the fields, in the hills above Mitakihara. You could see every star – the whole universe – from there, and the warm breeze could carry you off to a safe and cosy sleep.

But it was winter, and maybe she was kidding herself. Mami’s place had a certain kind of charm. Kyouko ended up there because it was easy, but there was something else to it as well. There was no other place where someone would be waiting for her even half as often.

It was dawn, when Kyouko padded up to the balcony. She let her magic fade, and her boots with it, and slid open the sliding door. She didn’t bother with the pretence of ‘Sorry for the intrusion’, nor the pretence of ‘I’m home’.

Mami had nodded off, sitting up on the sofa. Her hair was down. She was wearing white and orange pyjamas, and was cuddled in the burgundy and moss coloured blanket that didn’t match anything.

The shougi pieces were still lying on the floor – maybe Mami was waiting to request that Kyouko pick them up. But Mami had retrieved the seal plushie from where it had fallen from the balcony to the street, and placed it on top of the television. _Hopeless._

Mami blinked awake, dazed, as Kyouko sloughed the borrowed goose-down coat off her shoulders.

“Oh, you’re here,” she said.

She stood, and wrapped Kyouko into the blanket with her. She was warm and soft, and Kyouko leaned into her shoulder and into her chest.

For a minute they just stood there, basking in the fuzzy warmth of the second-hand blanket and each other’s embrace. And then Mami tilted Kyouko’s head up and leaned forward to whisper gently to her ear.

“I have your oyakodon.”

There were three bowls in the fridge, and Mami microwaved one of them. Kyouko supposed they each had a second serving for later, but if Homura showed up Mami would probably give her own portion away. That was just how Mami was.

She placed the bowl on the triangle table, with a spoon and cup of tea, and plate with a chocolate chip muffin she must have baked the previous night.

Kyouko sat. She shuffled through the pocket of her jacket, and placed two Grief Cubes down on the glass, before reaching for the spoon. She’d had a third Grief Cube, but had used it herself.

“I brought these for you.”

Kyouko twiddled with her spoon, and Mami studied the Grief Cubes, through the haze of exhaustion.

“You’ll get hurt, if keep going out to fight by yourself.”

Kyouko sulked. “I didn’t want you to be upset, to despair, because of what I said.”

Mami considered this.

Kyouko realised she wasn’t eating and hastened to correct this mistake.

“You still shouldn’t go out by yourself. It’s dangerous.”

There was a long moment that was only Kyouko slurping the oyakodon.

“I don’t want you to die alone… When I’m not there…” Mami admitted wistfully.

The pauses dragged between their conversation.

“If you’re there you’ll only cry,” Kyouko said. “Homura won’t hold your shoulder. Your Soul Gem might shatter right there, watching someone as great as me ascend to the heavens.” Kyouko laughed, even though it wasn’t funny.

“Would that be so bad?” Mami smiled. “Well, you don’t really know~ I’ve been through a lot and I’m still hanging about. Although…” Mami’s lip curled down. “It would be better if you outlived me.”

An unrealised sigh drifted through the room.

“Nah, you should live and be the oldest magical girl… A magical old maid,” Kyouko snickered.

Mami smiled again. She fished her Soul Gem out of her pocket, and reached across the table for one of the Cubes.

For a while, they just sat and filled their hearts and stomachs.

Kyouko yawned over the empty rice bowl.

Mami reached up and, finally, plucked the right configuration of words out of the air.

“I’m sorry about the school forms,” she said. “I-” She paused and restarted. “Things have felt out of control, in my life. I shouldn’t have tried to fix it by controlling you.”

It was such a small thing, compared to wraiths and a witch’s magic. It hardly seemed to require Kyouko’s forgiveness.

“I’m sorry I yelled at you.” Kyouko turned her head down. “I know you care about me.” _And Sayaka,_ she didn’t say.

Sunlight was peaking up into the room from the balcony, Mami’s eyes squinted softly at the light, and Kyouko felt refreshed. She reached for the muffin that had been set out for her. She gobbled half of it and chased it with a few gulps of tea.

It was tasty. She’d have to tell Mami.

“Did you sign up for high school entrance exams?” Kyouko asked around the next bite of muffin.

Mami leaned back in her seat. She leaned against the palms of her hands and looked up at the ceiling.

“I thought about it, but… All my teachers kept on going on about future prospects and I-” For a second Mami’s voice wavered, and Kyouko was afraid she was going to start crying again. But Mami hissed a fortifying breath through her teeth, and continued in a small voice with a small smile. “I don’t think I’m going to be alive long enough for future prospects to matter.”

Kyouko paused with the last piece of muffin halfway to her mouth. She smooshed it in her palm, and rolled it absently into a ball. She wanted to argue with Mami, but she couldn’t.

“So I decided not to apply,” Mami chirped. She bobbed her head between her shoulders in rhythm. “I’m putting in a couple of applications for jobs at the local grocers. I think I might be able to get one, if I tell them a sob story about not having any parents to support me.”

Kyouko popped the last of the muffin into her mouth, and chewed contemplatively.

“Sounds like a plan,” she said carefully.

Mami tilted her head down and smiled at Kyouko.

“Well, if I work at the grocery, I might get to take home leftovers. I need the money so I can support my cute teammate, Kyouko-chan, and make sure she gets enough to eat.”

She reached over to pinch Kyouko’s cheek, but the gesture broke halfway. Her fingers ghosted over in a small caress, and then dropped and gripped weakly to the jacket sleeve on Kyouko’s upper arm.

Kyouko rearranged it. She reached over to grab Mami’s hand. She squeezed, and was relieved when Mami squeezed tightly back.

Kyouko sighed. “I’m exhausted,” she complained. She had stayed up all night.

“I am too.” Mami nodded.

“We don’t need to be up for anything do we?” Kyouko asked. “We can nap until the afternoon?”

Mami’s head bobbed in a listless parody of agreement.

They lingered, holding hands.

Mami huffed a laugh suddenly.

“My bed’s covered in stuff. We can’t just go lie on it.”

“We can just put the stuff on the floor, can’t we?” Kyouko challenged. “We can clean up and put everything away when we wake up, right? There’s enough space for everyone at Mami’s apartment, right?”

Mami giggled like twinkling starlight and squeezed Kyouko’s hand again. “Of course,” she agreed.

..

_Fin._


End file.
